Just One of Those Nights
by maggdmns
Summary: This started off as a challenge I was given to write as a final paper for a college writing class. Takes place post season 2. Sam and Dean go out to the bar. sorry I suck at summaries


**Just One of Those Nights**

**Disclaimer:** The characters in this story don't belong to me. They were brilliantly created by Eric Kripke and he deserves the credit for them and for creating Supernatural. I just made up the story and am not and will not be making any money off of this.

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"I am NOT wearing that stupid ass skirt," Dean said for what seemed like the hundredth time as he paced back and forth across the motel room. Every once and a while turning to give a dirty look to the kilts lying on the bed nearest him. Looking up for a moment Sam rolled his eyes then went back to the website that was up on his laptop.

"They aren't skirts. They're called kil…" Sam didn't get a chance to finish what he was saying.

"I don't care. We are not going to that funeral. Skirts, bow ties, and bagpipes are not my thing and I'd rather do anything and be anywhere then near any of the three, especially all of them at once. I'd rather be on the run from the Irish mafia. I'd rather be hunting down a demonic cannibalistic man hating lesbian. Plus what is that bagpipe crap anyways because that is definitely not music…" Sam, a long time ago, had figured out the tell tale signs of when his brother was getting into one of his long winded rants and it was because of that that he knew exactly how to tune Dean out and did so at this time. After a couple minutes Sam realized that Dean had stopped talking. Out of the corner of his eye Sam could see Dean looking at him and realized that his brother had probably asked him a question and was waiting for an answer to it.

"Periwinkle monkeys," He said looking up from his laptop again.

"Huh?" Dean looked confused. "You okay Sammy? You sure you didn't hit you're head too hard when you tripped over that tricycle earlier? See now that's why I hate dealing with possessed kids you never know what they are going to attack you with. Stupid hula hoop," Dean said rubbing his temple. "I mean…" Sam couldn't deal with another rant right now.

"I'm fine. Now what was it you were asking me?"

"When?"

Sam groaned and shut the laptop pushing it off his legs and onto the bed next to him.

"I swear to god man you have the worst memory this side the Pacific Ocean."

"I'm just screwing with you Sammy boy." Dean collapsed on the other bed shoving the kilts to the floor in the process. "I was just suggesting we go to the bar I saw up the street earlier. Get a coupla' drinks. Play a little pool. Make a little money."

"Don't you mean hustle a little pool?" Sam stood up to grab his coat. "I guess. I mean we're between jobs right now. It's not like we have much else to do tonight." Dean got up grabbing his leather jacket off the chair and the car keys off the night stand.

"Just so you know I'm not buying you frilly mixed drinks or cocktails. Whiskey is to be drank straight, tequila is supposed to be done in shots, and rum well… rum is well… it's not to be mixed with diet coke."

Pulling into the parking lot of the bar, which they now realized was an Irish pub called The Blarney Stone, Dean looked around for a spot to park the Impala. Sam pointed to one but Dean drove right by.

"Why did you do that?" Sam questioned, "That was a perfectly good spot."

"Are you kidding me?" Dean sounded shocked, "There is no way in hell I trust someone who drives a brown Ford Festiva any where near my baby."

"Your feelings for this car disturb me," Sam responded as he continued to look for another open space.

"What the hell was wrong with that one?" Sam asked as Dean drove by another spot, "To my knowledge you don't have anything against Cameros."

"It's not the car I have a problem with. Did you see the license plate on it?" Sam turned around to look.

"Are you freakin' kidding me! You're not parking next to that car because of personalized license plates!" Dean turned to look at him.

"Basically." Sam was starting to get really frustrated when Dean drove by a third space.

"Dude it's a red, white and blue VW Bug. You don't seriously think I want my car associated with something like that do you?" To which Sam's response was.

"WE LIVE IN THE USA! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU EXPECT THE CANADIAN FLAG! JUST PARK DAMINT!" Dean finally parked the car and stepped out.

"Breathe Sammich, don't need you having an aneurysm on me."

"You know I hate it when you call me that," Sam ground out through his teeth.

"Yeah, I know," Dean said with a smirk, "but that's what an older brother is for isn't it?" Opening the door he waved Sam in. "Ladies first Sammy." Sam turned and glared at him before walking into the pub.

While standing in the doorway searching for a free table Sam noticed Dean already scanning the crowd. Weather he was looking for guys to scam at the pool table or the next woman to try to get into bed Sam wasn't sure but he was already starting to get a bad feeling about coming here tonight.

"Dean…"

"What?" Dean asked turning around to give his brother an agitated look.

"Don't start anything in here tonight," Sam warned.

"It's not like I plan ahead for that sort of thing and the last time wasn't my fault." Sam had expected to hear that.

"Just don't." Dean's only reaction to this was rolling his eyes.

"Well aren't you just the life of the party tonight. I'm going to go get a drink." Dean started towards the bar, pausing a moment to throw one last word at Sam, "Bitch".

"Jerk," Sam responded playing along like always.

It had long past midnight, in fact it is was probably closer to 2 A.M., when Sam began to over hear the argument that had started over by the pool table. Letting out a frustrated sigh he drank the last of his beer and stood up, turning towards the commotion. Here we go again he thought to himself as he walked towards the group, not at all surprised to see that Dean was involved.

"What's going on?" he asked stopping next to Dean.

"I was just telling this guy that pool doesn't seem to be his sport, and was trying to suggest that maybe he should try something a little easier," Dean explained to Sam then turned back to the guy standing in front of him. "You know what you'd probably be good at? Bowling. The balls are a lot bigger and they've even got bumpers for people who have a problem getting the ball to go in a straight line. It would be perfect for you. Or better yet, ice skating you don't even need balls for that." Ducking just in time Dean barely missed getting hit by the right hook that came at his head. Grabbing the guy's arm Dean used the momentum of the swing to flip the guy onto his back.

"Dammit Dean," Dean turned to look at Sam for a second. That second was all it took for the guy to stand up and punch Dean straight in the stomach. Grabbing the nearest chair Dean swung it at the man's head just missing by an inch but still managing to hit the wall and break one of its legs off. Sam grabbed the now three legged chair from Dean before he took another swing with it and then proceeded to push Dean towards the exit of the pub, barely giving his brother enough time to grab the money off the corner of the pool table.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sam asked as he pushed Dean out the door. "And don't even try to lie to me because I am seriously sick and tired of that "It wasn't my fault" bullshit from you," Dean opened his mouth to say something but Sam cut him off. "No you know what I don't even want to know. Ever since you made that deal with that demon it's like you have a death wish or something. I should just be glad you didn't try to take out your gun and pistol whip the guy." A look of hurt and anger came over Dean's face but was quickly covered.

"I have never pulled a gun on anyone or anything that hasn't deserved it Sam and I'm not about to start now," he snapped and stormed off towards the car. With a frustrated sigh Sam walked faster to catch up with him.

"Look Dean I'm sorry that's not what I meant. It's just… never mind. I'm sorry okay? I never should have said that last part. I'm worried about you man. I promised you that I would get you out of that deal and I meant it. I know you were just trying to save me but trading your soul to bring me back, even if the demon did promise you a year to live, was incredibly stupid. Especially knowing how you felt when dad did pretty much the same thing for you. I just wish you would quit being so self destructive right now and just talk to me about what's bugging you." Dean paused and turned around.

"You know as much fun as this whole sharing and caring thing sounds, I'm really not in the mood for a "Party of Five" moment Neve Campbell. You ready to head back to the motel?"

"As soon as you hand over the keys and before you try to get me to let you drive, I do know how much you've had to drink tonight so it's not worth fighting me on this." Dean begrudgingly handed them over, walked to the passenger side and climbed in. Sam got behind the wheel and stuck the key into the ignition but when he turned it the engine wouldn't turn over.

"Shit!" Dean's head jerked up and towards Sam.

"Shit? What the hell do you mean? Shit? What the hell did you do to her?" Sam gave him a weird look.

"I didn't do anything to "her" the car just won't start. Tell me you have jumper cables in here somewhere."

"Ha, ha, jumper cables, very funny Sammy. Try it again. Knowing you're knowledge of cars you probably didn't hold the key back long enough. That or she just doesn't like you," Dean said stroking the dashboard. "Do you girl." Sam took a couple deep breaths trying to hold himself back from smacking Dean upside the head and then tried to start the car Impala again. This time it didn't have a problem starting up immediately after the key was turned. "See I told you so," Dean smirked and leaned back against the seat. They had barely left the parking lot when they heard a thud and Dean's jaw dropped.

"I swear to god if you just caused damage to my car I will kick your ass."

"Relax. It was just a pot hole or small animal like a squirrel or a raccoon or something." Dean glared at him. "Your car is fine Dean."

Much to Sam's relief, other then Dean's off key AC/DC sing along, the rest of the ride back to the motel was pretty uneventful. As soon as they got back to the motel room Dean striped down to his boxers and passed out on one of the beds while Sam started digging through one of their bags. Pulling out the bottle of Excedrin that he was looking for he walked over and set the pill bottle on the night stand.

"You're definitely going to need that in the morning," he said to Deans sleeping form, then got ready for bed himself.

The next day Dean woke up to jack hammers going off in his head. Opening his eyes for a moment he quickly closed them when the bright sun shining into the room made the hammers get worse.

"Son of bitch. Sam close the blinds," he groaned. After hearing his brother walk over and do as he asked he slowly opened his eyes again. Sam walked over to the bed and sat down next to him handing him a cup of coffee and three of the Excedrin.

"Black, just the way you like it."

"Thank god." Throwing back the pills and a couple sips of coffee he climbed out of bed and walked towards the bathroom to pee.

"I got a phone call from Ellen not long before you woke up." Sam said as Dean walked out of the bathroom and started getting dressed.

"Oh yeah?" Dean finished pulling on and buttoning his jeans.

"Yeah. She's got a job for us." Sam stood and started throwing their things into the bags.

"That's cool. As long as I don't have to dodge beanie babies again."

"She's pretty sure it's a poltergeist." Dean frowned.

"I hate those bastards. But why do I get a feeling your not telling me something?" Sam looked away mumbling something.

"What?" Dean was starting to feel weary about this.

"It's in a barbershop." Sam repeated this time so Dean could hear him.

"Son of a bitch."

**The End… Maybe.**

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I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope to hear your reviews. Soooo tell me what you think.


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